Mond
by borrowingluck
Summary: Mond has survived for centuries, and is one of three remaining vampires turned by Dracula himself. Over the years, the few friends he had were killed off by vampire hunters. His love Sterne, his favorite creation Lillian, and his beloved friend/brother-by-venom Strum. Now his small, dwindling world is threatened by a rouge Hunter moving into his territory.


My name is Mond. None other than Dracula himself turned me into what I am today. I'm one of three that remain from his direct line, and therefore I'm one of the strongest. I call myself an, 'original'. There are only three originals left, and the other two original vampires are somewhere far off in the other ends of the world. We keep our distance from each other, nothing ever good happens when our paths cross.

I'm hundreds of years old and I've just about seen it all. Every once in a while, a strong hunter is born and throws my world into chaos. Hunters are humans that take on the dangerous career of vampire hunting. Very few of them become strong enough to be a thorn in my side, but it's happened a few times in the past. Most of the time I can send my spawn out to deal with any hunter that wanders to close to my territory, but lately my numbers have been dwindling. My manor seems much emptier than it used to be. It's not all because of hunters. I downsized my collection of fledglings a few years back. This new world is too transparent for us to exist like we used to. We have to be much more careful how we operate or we'll be noticed, and eliminated.

There were a few of my creations that I held very dear. None of them are left. The last one, my precious Lillian, was slain by hunters half a century ago. I warned her about the transparency, that the humans around her were starting to catch on. But she didn't listen, and soon enough the hunters found her. They always seem to find us in the end. I've managed to hold myself up here, in rural Virginia. I found an empty manor, falling to ruins and completely forgotten. It's fall from grace reminded me of my own, and we seem to be the same in our acceptance of our doomed fate. We'll ride out the end together.

My human days are just a ghost of a memory to me now. I don't remember my Father's name, or the soft caress of my Mother's hand on my cheek. The only things I remember after years of meditation are the scream of a woman, a lover's face, and my name. Mond, or moon in German. I kept my human name, something very few of my kind do. But I need it, I need that connection to the days before I became a monster. None of my human features have survived immortality. My tan skin has turned white, hollow and cold. There is no life or kindness in the blackness of my eyes. No heartbeats in my chest, no warmth follows in my veins, no soul clutches to my bones. The only thing that remains is my messy, untamable black hair. My body is preserved in immortality. To a shallow human, that may sound like a dream. But its not, it's a curse. There is no beauty in immortality. Everything beautiful crumbles and dies.

The little beauty I tried to keep in this world has gone as well. Lillian for example, was the most beautiful human I've ever seen. She was slain and burned in savagery. Humans are too small-minded to accept that they aren't the top of the food chain, and lash out viscously at us in their blindness. If they would just accept their true place in the world, everything would be much more peaceful. Yes, we'd still them, but the numbers would be greatly reduced. The sacrifice of the minority could save the majority. We could even help progress the ideal of natural selection by weeding out the weaker, diseased humans. Their cancers and viruses don't harm us. End their suffering in a quick, relatively painless way, instead of dragging it out in a hospital.

I wasn't always like this. I know I seem like a monster, and it's because I am a monster. But I used to be kinder, softer. I didn't kill mothers or fathers, or anyone kind. Only the brutal and unfair met their end in my hands. But as years passed I learned that all humans are the same. They see weakness and they attack. Even the most innocent of children can wield a knife. It's just a fact I've come to accept. It's not a demon's place to try and play God.


End file.
